Clothes first, then down to the street to seek out more clues. There was a massive chance that the Jamaican-made cigarette was a coincidence, even though in the eighteen months since his return he’d never found a store that carried the brand.
And he’d looked, because he’d gotten used to taking an occasional drag to relax.
After setting his empty plate on Annabel’s chest of drawers, he dug into his duffel for a T-shirt, jeans and the knife few people knew he had—a knife he’d taken from one of Dega’s men and kept hidden behind a loose chunk of cinder blocks supporting the barracks.
If Russell Dega was actually here on the hunt, Patrick had damn well better be ready for a showdown.
“SORRY TO HAVE DRAGGED you out of bed,” Chloe Zuniga said as Annabel closed the elevator’s sliding grate behind her. The two women headed for the kitchen, Chloe giving Annabel a thorough once-over. “I thought you’d be expecting me, not still be in bed getting all kinds of lucky.”
“I was expecting you, and I wasn’t in bed. I was in the kitchen. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and Patrick is making me breakfast.” Annabel rounded the corner into the open kitchen area and stopped.
“Or he was making you breakfast,” Chloe said.
Annabel took in the omelette pan in the sink and the total lack of anything left to eat. Not even a scrap of the diced tomatoes or shredded cheese. “Hmm. I’m going to send that boy a grocery bill if he’s not careful.”
“Boy?” Chloe pursed her pink lips. “I doubt there’s another woman alive who would call Patrick Coffey a boy. Then again, I imagine you know him better than anyone else.”
There were times Annabel thought so, times she wondered too much about the other women he’d known, when she had no business wondering any such thing. “Honestly? I’m not sure I know him at all, and I plan to maintain that status quo. You want coffee?”
“Sure.”
After casual chitchat while filling their cups, and Annabel’s quick check of the bedroom, where she discovered Patrick’s vanishing act down the fire escape, she led Chloe back into the loft’s main room and settled on the opposite end of the sofa.
“So,” Chloe began. “Would you like to explain that status quo comment?”
Annabel lowered her cup. “About getting to know Patrick? What’s there to explain?”
“A lot.”
Annabel shook her head. “I don’t think so. I simply see no need to know him better than I do when this isn’t a long-term relationship. We’ve had our fun.” And she really had done her best to make him see the truth of his destructive behavior. “But I have a lot of decisions to make that are best made without having Patrick around.”
Chloe’s blond bob swung as she tilted her chin. “If you were a man, I’d accuse you of not being able to think with your big head.”
Smiling privately, Annabel blew over the surface of her hot coffee before she sipped. “I’ll admit to seeing things through sex-colored glasses these days.”
“I’ll bet.” Chloe stared into her own cup. “I’m the same way with Eric.”
“Yes, but you and Eric are involved, committed—” a strange twist of envy caught at Annabel’s midsection “—and in love.”
Chloe nodded as she lifted her coffee, but her tremulous expression—one totally out of character—was more telling than the motion of her head.
Annabel frowned. “Chloe? Are you and Eric having trouble?”
“Oh, no,” Chloe hurriedly insisted. “We’re fine. We’re great.”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d believe every word. But your face is telling an entirely different story.” Annabel paused to let that sink in. “You forget how long I’ve known you.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t.” Chloe’s brow lifted sharply. “I was there every step of the way while you were busy stealing my job.”
Annabel huffed. “You weren’t exactly laying down your life to save what you had. Your interest wasn’t there, and I took full advantage. I remember having this discussion with you then.”
Pulling in a nervous breath, Chloe said in a rush, “I’m afraid that’s what’s happening with Eric. That his interest isn’t there. And that I’m going to lose him.”
“What are you talking about?” Annabel’s chest grew tight with worry. “You adore him. He adores you—”
“I’m not so sure anymore.”
“How can you say that? I was at your place Tuesday night. I saw the two of you together. He can’t stand for you to be out of his sight.”
“That’s the thing. I’ve been so busy with the gUIDANCE gIRL program that I’ve neglected him, neglected us. And I readily admit that….” Chloe’s sadness was virtually palpable. “Did you know Macy’s pregnant?”
“No. I didn’t.” But the revelation certainly put Chloe’s funk into perspective. “Do you want to have a baby?”
“Yes. No. Later, maybe.”
“And Eric?”
“I’ve always thought so. It’s just that recently he’s stopped talking about the Little League team of his loins, when he used to tease me about babies all the time.” She tucked her feet beneath her protectively. “I’m not sure what to do.”
Even knowing her girlfriend was hurting and wasn’t trying to be funny, Annabel couldn’t help but chuckle. “One thing you can do is get ready to kiss those perky boobs goodbye.”
Chloe frowned. “That’s not funny.”
So much for trying to lighten the mood. “I know it’s not. But what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t point out the obvious?”
“Well, think of a different obvious, would you? Like the one I keep missing when I try to figure out what’s going on with him.” Chloe’s hands gripped her cup so tightly Annabel feared the china would break.
She’d never seen her girlfriend so emotionally distraught. Chloe usually tossed off problems in a flurry of foulmouthed curses and gutter talk. She was not the type to fret or to stew. Especially not when it came to her relationship with Eric Haydon.
Annabel, unfortunately, was the last person to dispense advice on dealing with men. She was certainly no shining example of sticking with anything long term.
Even so, she was hardly unfeeling enough to change the subject now that Chloe had confided her fears—no matter that those fears struck at the heart of Annabel’s own decision to cut Patrick out of her life.
“Look, Chloe. I’m the least qualified person I know when it comes to relationship issues. All I can say is that from an outsider’s perspective, you don’t have a thing to worry about with Eric.” She went on, nipping Chloe’s objection in the bud. “But maybe you need to discuss this with him instead of me. Does he know how you’ve been feeling?”
Chloe went back to nursing her coffee, refusing to meet Annabel’s gaze. “Every time I get up the nerve to talk about it, he changes the subject. It’s as if he’s totally indifferent. And I can’t help but worry that it’s not just the babies he’s losing interest in.”
“You think it’s you.”
Chloe nodded, looking so miserable and lost, Annabel couldn’t doubt her friend’s sincerity. Which was why it came out of left field when, cup empty, Chloe slid the china across the coffee table and bounced around like a depressive on a manic rebound. “Never mind about me. I started my period, and I’m moody because I thought